


Yearbook

by nikomiel



Series: Volleyshots [8]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, KageHina - Freeform, M/M, Unrequited Love, sorry but it must be done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 22:28:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5223365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikomiel/pseuds/nikomiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things change, but photographs are forever</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yearbook

“Hey, Kageyama-san!”

 

He looks up. Akiyama is waving at him from the opposite side of the gym, bouncing across the court and shaking something around too fast for his eyes to register, and he’s about to yell at him to pipe down and tell him _what_ , for god’s sake, did Hinata give him a Dr Pepper again, because he KNOWS full well how much the hyperactive first-year on a sugar high can make Kageyama’s blood pressure rise, and the words are making the transition from his lungs to his tongue when-

When Akiyama stops and the blur in his hands morphs into some sort of leaflet, or magazine, or…

 

Oh no.

 

“Is this you?”  Akiyama squeaks, slender olive fingers stabbing at a figure in the sports section, and Kageyama winces.

 “N-“

 "Is _what_ him?”

“Akiyama, what is it?”  
”I wanna see! I wanna see!”

 The first and second years all crowd around at once, Oshiro almost running into the net with his eagerness to know what the fuss is about, and Kageyama groans into his hands.

 “Why do you guys never run this fast in practi-“

 He’s cut off, for the second time in so many minutes, by a chorus of cackles and gasps. Oshiro is covering his mouth, grin still clearly visible behind his stubby fingers, and Akiyama is now laughing so hard he’s stopped making any noise. Matsumoto, meanwhile,  simply reaches into the fray with one long arm and holds the object aloft amidst the loud protests of his setter.

“Matsumoto! Give it baaack!”

“Shut up, Akiyama, I can’t even see it past that fat head of yours.”

“Better a fat head than a fat stomach!”

“Why you-“

 “ _Enough!_ ” Kageyama growls, in his very best Captain Voice, and is rewarded with Matsumoto hitting him in the face with a bundle of glossy pages.

“Check it, Kage.”

 

He sighs. Unfolds.

Holds his breath, though he knows what he’ll see anyway.

 

Six face shine from behind his fingers, ecstasy written on their technicolour faces and hair partially obscured by the headline;

 

_Karasuno Crows regain their wings! Boy’s volleyball team finishes the year with a win at the National Tournament. Flip over for an interview with the captain, Daichi Sawamura, on how it felt to win this last match of his high school career._

His eyes flash over the blaring orange script (seriously, who picks the colour scheme of yearbooks anyway?), and down to two hands hoisting the cup together. One small and childlike, the other tapered and strong.

He swallows past the lump in his throat.

Down further.

 And there they are, grinning fiercely at each other as the others look to the sky. There they are, blurry eyes fixed on one another. There they are, Karasuno’s secret weapon, the partnership that spawned a legacy and a victory and-

 His nails dig into the page with such force that they rip through.

 "Kageyama-san?”

“You okay, man?”

 

He realises with a pang of horror that the page is blurring in front of his eyes, and stands on shaky legs. Opens his mouth, realises that talking isn’t an option, and promptly dashes out the gym in a mess of hot shame as a chorus of “ _Kageyama-san!”_ s echo behind him.

 Throwing open the door and sprinting down the steps, he realises he’s still clutching that stupid yearbook, and is just about to throw it away when he runs straight into his vice captain.

 

“Oof!”

 

The stout orange figure bounces off, and Kageyama only has a moment to marvel at how a blow like that would have felled Hinata in his first year at Karasuno, before

he staggers, glares, and lets loose a string of profanity that is almost impressive in its length and variety.

 “… _bakayama,_ if you’d just WATCH WHERE YOU’RE GOI-“

 When he cuts himself off , Kageyama squeezes his eyes shut, because he knows Hinata knows he’s crying, and there is _nothing_ more embarrassing than that.

He hears a cough.

“Wha…what’s wrong?”

 

Wordlessly, he holds out the yearbook, and doesn’t open his eyes until he feels the weight lift off his fingers.

 

Watching Hinata pour over the old photo, he can’t help but feel the same old astonishment, that the little shrimpy blocker in that photo had turned into _this,_ a muscular third-year with a goddamned _ponytail_ and more facial hair than Kageyama himself. And better cheekbones. How annoying.

 Then Hinata looks up, and Kageyama blinks rapidly and fake-yawns.

_Maybe he’ll just think I was sleepy-_

“Are you crying cause you’re still annoyed that you were cross-eyed when this photo was taken?”

Sadness is rapidly swept away by astonishment, followed by sheer annoyance, and Kageyama can only resort to his old tactic of grabbing his co-captain’s stupid fluffy head with the full might of his considerable grip strength.

Amid Hinata’s yelps, he growls out a single sentence.

 

“ _I miss us, idiot!_ ”

 

Hinata stops struggling. He lets go.

 The middle blocker stares up at him, confusion evident in his hazel eyes.

“You miss it?”

“ _Us._ I miss _us_.”

 There is a long, pregnant pause, and Kageyama wishes for the ground to swallow him up, because he has _never_ talked to Hinata like this, not since the end of their first year as teammates, and as Hinata gazes up at him he sees a spark of something in his eyes.

 "You know?” he adds, breathlessly, having not explained himself in the slightest, but Hinata always had a tendency to swing between idiocy and telepathy and this _just might be one of those times when_ -

 

A fluffy head obscures his vision, and hands wrap around his waist.

 

And Hinata is saying, _yeah, I know_ , and he can’t breathe, they haven’t been this close since the night of their victory, when they hugged so tightly on the court that he could feel his partner’s heartbeat against his own chest, and he felt that painful judder down his spine, to be replaced with

shock, as Yachi is spinning Hinata around and

horror, as she’s leaning forward and

his heart is falling out of his chest as she kisses Hinata, shy and sweet on his bottom lip, and Hinata is redder than a Kit-Kat wrapper and Kageyama can’t stop staring, as Tanaka whistles from the sideline and Kiyoko turns her back to get the water bottles

 

and now he squeezes his eyes shut as tears flood his vision, because right after then was when the photo was taken. Hinata had caught his eye just as the camera flashed, and he stared into those fierce brown eyes, and the only thought in his head was _look at me, look at me like that again, look at me like that forever_

but he hadn’t.

 

And two years later, here they were, Hinata a senior who was unfathomably popular with the first-year girls yet unwaveringly loyal to his valedictorian girlfriend, and Kageyama a perpetually single milk enthusiast who cried over yearbooks.

 It made him ache.

 

He wrapped his arms around Hinata anyway, burying his head against the copper curls, because if such moments were only going to happen every three years then he damn well wasn’t going to squander them.

  _Just give me this._

It’s just them breathing for a while, breathing together in that oddly synced way of theirs, and Kageyama’s arms are settled over his vice captain’s shoulders, fingers digging into solid muscle, and he dimly wonders if he’s hurting Hinata but quickly decides that he doesn’t care, close is never close enough, and if he can just have _this-_

 

Hinata pulls away first, obviously, jerking as his phone vibrates in his pocket.

 Kageyama wants to manage a joke, something clever like _is that a message in your pocket or are you happy to see me_ , but he’s scared of what might come out if he opens his mouth.

They look at each other, awkwardly.

Hinata breaks eye contact first, mumbling, “It’s Hitoka, I said I’d meet her outside the cafeteria before practice,”

and Kageyama is murmuring something banal in reply, nodding as his heart shatters again and again inside his chest, and Hinata is saying, _See you in practice,_ and he wants to say, _but never how I want you to_ ,

but the moment is gone.

 

It had been and gone, three years ago, and now all he had was the memory of it, perfectly preserved in a tattered little photo in the Karasuno High School yearbook.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
